Crazy Crafty: The Lady in the Tutti Frutti Lamp

Bad taste runs in my family.  For the sake of familial accord at the holidays, however, I'm not naming any names.  But there is a certain relative of my mother's who is notorious for her living room, an unprecedented combination of purple chenille sofas, red-and-orange throw pillows, modernist art in a traditional-southwest palette of peach and turquoise, and reproduction Louis XIV-style chairs upholstered in toile.  It doesn't end there.  Like the shallowing gene pool of European royalty, I am a victim descendant of inbred tackiness.  When my paternal grandparents were alive, they made their home in the desert where "rock lawns" are not an unusual landscape option; they decided to up the ante by covering the rocks in their front yard with a rich, if wholly-unnatural, coat of deep-green, semi-gloss paint - touching up annually or as needed.  Somehow, instead of disdain, I find comfort in my forebears' gifts of eclecticism and spirit of make-do that were certainly a byproduct of Depression-era economics.  wacky tacky courses through my veins.

It should come as no surprise then that I was beside my self with joy when my older brother gifted me a figural lamp in the shape of a woman.  It didn't matter that the lamp came with no harp, no shade, no base, and more than a few nicks and dings.  He couldn't even be bothered to throw down a lightbulb.  No less than ten years later, I have finally made time to give this lady lamp a makeover and allow her to really shine!

This old girl has definitely been around the block.

Fortunately, the wiring was sound, so all she needed was a skirt, a shade, and some TLC.  I had spent portions of the past decade halfheartedly searching for the proper base.  It wasn't until I was making the Put A Lid On It Sun Hat for Mary's Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Matchy-Matchy Rufflekini, that inspiration struck.  I didn't need a factory-issued base; would Grandma have bought new or would she have just made-do?!?!!   All this crazy crafter needed was a sun hat, a glue gun, and a dream!

The chipped paint on her yellowing face and an improper base might turn
some vintage purists away.  I, however, like the character of an imperfect
piece and the challenge of a make-do craft project.

The strapless bodice, opera-length gloves, and hands-behind-the-head posturing all seemed slightly provocative, implying that this was a lamp that could really "turn on."  In researching similar lamps, I found that the earliest examples of this style were really quite demure; the bodies were originally ceramic, affixed on a domed, wire-cage base covered in a fabric skirt (housing another bulb as a secondary light source), and topped with a dainty, ruffled lampshade.

Two views of the lady lamp on Mary Sue's (Reese Witherspoon) dressing table/desk in a
scene from Pleasantville, proving the lamp's provenance goes back at least as far as 1998.

When Underwriters' Laboratories, Inc. took over the patent, they 

began producing this and many other  lamps in molded plastic.

A basic sun hat would become the new skirt/base for the lamp.
To accommodate the cord, I cut the point off of the hat and created a
reinforced hole in the lower side panel where a small hole already existed.

I had the lamp.  I had the foundation for the skirt.  What I was lacking was direction.  Should I go authentic "repro" or should I go full wacky tacky?  Well, it took only two seconds before that question answered itself.  But I still needed inspiration...

wacky tacky, for sure...but I just couldn't get past the inherent va-va-va-voom!!!

"Pardon me, I'm undressed!"

Yes, the pose was saucy.  Yes, the extant examples were ladylike.  Was there a wacky tacky way to split the difference?  To quote wacky tacky icon, Carmen Miranda, "Sim, Sim!!!"  "The Lady in the Tutti Frutti Hat" would become the Lady in the Tutti Frutti Lamp!

An electrified ode to Ms. Miranda!!!
The skirt's ruffles are made of the same sparkling material from which Mary's most recent Happy Holiday Frock
was made (only in the acid-green colorway).  I strung a cluster of beads in an attempt to recreate Miranda's iconic layered jewelry.  I sewed on the puffed sleeves by hand before digging through my basket of whatnots to find
two fruit clusters that I salvaged from a weird pair of thrift store sandals.

 I added some flowers and leaves and fixed the hip corsage to the gold
rick rack trim.  There was already a lot going on but she still needed a topper.

The only item that I had to purchase for this project was the
least-expensive lamp shade that Ikea had to offer.  I, of course,
had to paint it gold inside and out, add a couple of fabric ruffles
bound by rick rack, and finish it off with the matching fruit cluster.

The Lady in the Tutti Frutti Lamp in action with my 1940s
Carmen Miranda Coloring Book (a special gift).  It just so happens
that we, like a million other Americans, have some of the same mid-
century, French Provincial furniture seen on the set of Pleasantville. 

I didn't want to permanently secure the lady lamp to the skirt/hat/foundation; just in case I ever got the 

notion to transform her again, I cleverly stabilized her by attaching the two uppermost layers of the skirt 

to each other and putting a sort of gasket inside the hat.  I love the fact that I didn't touch this lamp for
ten years and all of a sudden I think I'm going to need costume changes!!!

Did I mention that bad taste runs in my family?  No sooner had I started this Crazy Crafty project than my younger brother told me that he had the exact lamp in the exact same condition just waiting for Mr. Tiny's Copacabana Makeover.  It might not be too long before the Lady in the Tutti Frutti Lamp has a twin sister!  In fact, rather than a lamp, I might transform the twin into the most glorious toilet paper cozy that ever was!!!  Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi like that very much!

"The Lady in the Tutti Frutti Hat" - Carmen Miranda

from The Gang's All Here (1943)

"Boa Noite e sonhos doces, você wacky tacky gargantas do peru!"

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Just Because I, Yi, Yi, Yi, Yi, Yi Like You Very Much

I love birthday presents.  I love Christmas presents.  It is a fact that I love presents of all varieties, but usually I protest the opportunity to be a recipient because I was raised with the notion that a gracious decline (see "no gifts please") was good manners.  No matter how much I protest, which I usually doth too much, there is no denying the joy of fiendishly tearing into the aluminum foil (What?  Everyone doesn't ensconce gifts of the heart in food-grade wrapping?) to uncover something that is meant just for me; growing up in a family of five children, there were very few things that I could claim as mine alone.  The only thing better than a birthday gift or Christmas gift, is that gift that comes totally unexpectedly at a time when a little pick me up is needed but no such expectation can be justified because the major gift-giving holidays have just very recently passed - the "just because" gift.  When that rarest species of gifts just happens to be old-timey AND wacky tacky, then you know you have hit the "just because" jackpot!

Many people will say that they were "born in the wrong decade," but I am convinced that the same people would be reticent to abandon the luxuries and basic comforts provided by the modern world.  I see it as an episode of The Twilight Zone - an unwitting protagonist wishes to go back in time but fails to read the fine print and promptly contracts polio and lives in an iron lung for the rest of his life.  Despite the obvious pitfalls of time travel, I will admit that I too have been guilty of spending an inordinate amount of time planning the clever and productive use of a time machine should such a device ever become available.  Few things make the desire to explore the flexibility of the space-time continuum more profound than a "just because" gift I recently received from my pals Jesse & Emily.  Just four words....

Don't you want to live in a time when a South American songstress was popular enough with the whole family to warrant a coloring book?  Even if you didn't want to live in 1942, wouldn't be a nice place to visit?

Carmen Miranda, having been featured previously on our blog, is a true icon of wacky tacky.  Our credo of "More is more," is a natural extension of her outlandish hats, beautiful costumes, and mile-high platform shoes.  Owning this nearly-untouched coloring book is a bit intimidating because the large pages are just begging to be colored (a favorite wacky tacky pastime) but the nagging feeling that it is somehow wrong to color a vintage coloring book can't be denied.  What do you think?

There are a few colored pages but it is obvious that the artist, Mary Ann, applied a gentle and loving hand.

All I want is a trip to Copacabana Beach - circa 1939

It is amazing to me how with just a few simple lines, the spirit of Carmen is captured in the pages of this book.

Thrown in for good measure?

The details are all there, right down to
 those famous platform shoes!

This generous gift is even more meaningful because Emily is a huge, classic movie buff; she has a beautiful blog called The Silver Screen Affair.  For her to have a little piece of movie-related history in her hands and be magnanimous enough to give it to me was a truly kind gesture.  The greatest part about a "just because" gift is the opportunity to pay it forward and make somebody else's day.

"I, Yi, Yi, Yi, Yi, Yi Like You Very Much" - Carmen Miranda

Thanks Emily & Jesse!!! I, yi, yi, yi, yi, yi like you too!!!

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

wacky tacky icons: Carmen Miranda

Carmen Miranda was born in Portugal!  Yes, the archetypal Brazilian who put Brazil on the map and introduced the Samba to the consciousness of the world was a native of Portugal.  

 

Born Maria do Carmo Miranda da Cunha in 1909, her family moved to Rio de Janeiro shortly after her birth.  In the beginning of her career she dressed in contemporary modes of the day and became famous for her beautiful interpretations of the samba.  Her international fame exploded after she played in the 1939 musical revue "Streets of Paris" on Broadway.  A one-woman Good Neighbor Policy, Miranda quickly began her American film career playing herslef in a musical sequence from the 1940 Fox film Down Argentine Way.  From then on, she was about as famous for her costumes as she was for her voice.  

Her beautiful phrasing and sensual dancing could not be hidden under the mile-high turbans that she wore but she will always be remembered for her extreme presentation of "bahiana" style. It seems a sacrilege to relegate Miranda to anything but Technicolor but several of her film were in black and white??!!  Some of her get-ups, many designed by Miranda herself, were so ridiculous that even Donald Trump would have a difficult time questioning her wacky tacky credentials. 



Typical Bahiana style

We're bananas for Carmen's muito-Bahiana style

I tried to cull some images to show that there was more to Carmen Miranda than just the iconic "Lady in the Tutti Frutti Hat."

Really, she was always cookin' but how
often do you think of Carmen in the kitchen?

1930's nautical

Now those are some bumper bangs!

Her hair was almost always up; it is nice to see those tresses flowing.

Where's Carmen?  Where did she go?
This almost looks 3-D...at least on my screen.

Well-Suited - even in street clothes she had great style!

She embodied wacky tacky ideal number one - more is more!

At roughly five-feet-tall, Miranda's diminutive stature was obviously overshadowed by her huge presence, enhanced exponentially by the crazy platform shoes that she popularized during the 1940's.

Carmen towering above her  wealth of platforms.
Eat your heart out Imelda Marcos.

One of the under-acknowledged high-fashion trends that was born at the tail-end of the depression and continued into the 1940's was wild platform shoes.  Here are a few pairs that Miranda could easily handle, but in which most would break an ankle.

Carmen Miranda was above all else, a performer; she gave new meaning to the word "trouper" during her final performance.  In 1955 Miranda made a guest appearance on The Jimmy Durante Show.  She wowed the audience with her signature costumes, malapropisms and SAMBA! 

At about 3:31 she drops to one knee after suffering a mild heart attack mid-dance.  She goes on to continue the routine and finish the show!!!  She died in her home of a second heart attack later that evening.  What a woman!

In her lifetime, she took some heat from Brazilians for being "too American" and for becoming a caricature of herself and her country.  The ill will became so strong that for a period of time, Miranda refused to return to Rio.  In the end, however, she was embraced by her country and her death was mourned by the people of Brazil.  I am not a huge fan of biopics, but I would LOVE to see one done well about Carmen Miranda.  The trouble would be finding someone with the charisma, dynamism and talent of Carmen Miranda- a difficult task indeed!

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny